


Domestication

by thegingermidget



Category: Killing Eve (TV 2018)
Genre: Chubby Kink, Chubby Villanelle, Enemies to Lovers, F/F, Oral Sex, Post-Season/Series 01, Sharing a Bed, Switching, Weight Gain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-19
Updated: 2018-12-19
Packaged: 2019-09-23 02:19:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17071610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegingermidget/pseuds/thegingermidget
Summary: After stabbing Villanelle, Eve takes up residence in Villanelle's apartment. She's surprised when Villanelle comes back, even more so when she allows Eve to stay while Villanelle recovers.While learning to live together, Eve finds herself attracted to Villanelle, every new inch of her.





	Domestication

**Author's Note:**

> Please pay attention to the tags and as always if this isn't for you, this isn't for you!

She had come to Villanelle’s apartment that day because she had nothing left to lose. No husband, no job. And really, she felt like Villanelle owed her something. For all that Villanelle had taken from her, wasn’t she owed something in return? 

When it was over and Villanelle ran, well, what else was she supposed to do? Go back to London, to her empty townhouse, to wallow in her unemployment?

That was why she had stayed in the beginning. Villanelle had such a nice apartment and didn’t Eve deserve some more of that champagne for all that she had suffered? Why should an assassin get such nice clothes and luxury soaps and creams? Any reasonable person would take advantage of Villanelle’s awfully comfortable bed.

Eve had to admit that she probably shouldn’t have stayed for as long as she did. 

It was nice though, living the life of a wealthy jetsetter, young and free and without a care in the world. It was far better than her own life had been going recently.

She shouldn’t have been too surprised three days later when Villanelle came back to reclaim it.

Eve woke with the sun one morning under handmade silk sheets. In her late morning languor, she stretched and went to the windows to marvel at the view of the Paris skyline, something she couldn’t quite get over. She fastened the belt of one of Villanelle’s silk kimonos around her waist and stepped barefoot into the living room. Eve nearly tripped over the robe as she recoiled with a scream.

“What are you doing in my apartment?” Villanelle asked calmly. She didn’t sound as playful as Eve was used to, which, in Eve’s opinion, had to mean something dangerous.

Eve didn’t have an answer. She didn’t have a good explanation for what she was doing here either. She had thought about it over the last three days and the best reasoning she could come up with was that it was better than going back to what she had been doing before. Sure, she said something to Kenny and Elena about continuing to investigate Villanelle by staking out her apartment. In actuality, the best way to describe what she was doing was to say she was taking a break. If the last few months had taught Eve anything, it was that she needed to reevaluate her priorities.

“I was just about to make coffee,” said Eve in the small voice that always made an appearance when Villanelle took her breath away. She wondered if Villanelle might kill her for being so stupid.

Villanelle looked pale. She had lost some of the liveliness that made their interactions so instantly electric. Eve knew that she had everything to do with that and felt a pang of regret. She had regretted stabbing Villanelle so many times over the last few days. 

To her surprise, Villanelle didn’t decide to kill her instantly. She didn’t look amused, though she didn’t show much of any emotion on her face. “Coffee sounds good,” was all she said. She didn’t take her eyes off of Eve even as she moved to the kitchen to start making their drinks. 

Their cohabitation began with that tense morning tête-à-tête, governed by the most basic rules of civility. Villanelle didn’t ask Eve to leave. Eve didn’t make any new attempts to stab Villanelle. Villanelle didn’t attempt any of the various methods by which she was capable of killing Eve. Neither of them spoke about what happened.

Of course, it was strange at first. 

Though Eve was technically the intruder, Villanelle kept out of her way rather than the other way around. She behaved rather like a cat when Eve was around. She didn’t dare venture too close when Eve was paying attention, but every once and awhile she would take a chance and sit in the same room as her if only for a little while. Eve was surprised when Villanelle slept on the couch that first night. They hadn’t discussed it and Eve felt slightly guilty about having that large bed all to herself while Villanelle slept outside, but she wasn’t about to protest.

In the morning, they were almost amicable. Villanelle dressed casually, in light brown trousers and a cashmere sweater, her slim body hidden in the soft fabrics. The wounds on her face were healing nicely, purple bruises had faded to green, and she looked more like herself than the last few times Eve had seen her. She even smiled when Eve handed her coffee and a pastry in the morning. Eve had gone out to a cafe as soon as she had woken up. As she left, she couldn’t be sure if Villanelle was still asleep on the couch. She got the feeling that she was awake, but couldn’t bring herself to move just yet. The wounds to her abdomen were still bothering her.

The first few days went something like that. Villanelle never came right out and said that she was still in pain, but she hardly moved from the couch. She left to bathe and to force herself on walks around the block, but otherwise, she was restlessly confined. Eve brought her a pastry and coffee in the morning and they worked their way up from that simple transaction to conversations before long.

After about a week, Eve and Villanelle went out to dinner together. It was a quiet affair, a casual restaurant where they could sit and talk without being disturbed. The night should have been utterly unremarkable considering they had eaten dinner together every night since they had begun cohabiting, but it felt significant in a way that Eve felt sure was mutual. It was a date, though neither of them had called it that. 

They sat on opposite sides of the table with the same nervous energy of any couple just getting to know each other. Eve was surprised by Villanelle’s ability to charm and make herself appear vulnerable. The woman was able to put on masks depending on what she wanted to convey. Eve thought she recognized most of them, but she was fascinated with the idea that any one of those personas might convey something real underneath.

For all of Villanelle’s impeccable etiquette, Eve noticed over dinner that she ate like a wolverine. From what she knew of Villanelle’s background, she wondered if it had anything to do with her upbringing. Growing up in crime and poverty and surviving prison at a young age, didn’t that mean that sometimes you had to fight for what you had? When you couldn’t be sure where or when you would get your next meal, you had to make what you had count.

Her table manners were never disgusting, but she ate with a vigor and relish that was almost charming. Villanelle loved food and enjoyed it deeply, possibly because it had been scarce at points in her life. She ordered seconds and thirds and made Eve try things she thought were exquisite. They usually were. As Eve was starting to realize that in almost every area of life, Villanelle had excellent taste.

The night ended with a short walk along the river. The restaurant had been nearby and they both expressed a desire for fresh air. What could have been a long meandering stroll talking about nothing and enjoying the beautiful night was cut short by Villanelle. She paused for a moment, taking in sharp breaths, her hand to her stomach. Her face was contorted into a perfect picture of pain. 

Villanelle’s hands grabbed for the wall that held back the banks of the river and used it to guide herself to the ground. The suddenness of it all startled Eve. She immediately fell to her knees to determine the cause of Villanelle’s distress. The way Villanelle’s eyes darted to her in suspicion made her pull back for a moment. Guilt flooded her conscience when she remembered the reason why. In her moment of weakness, Villanelle still thought that Eve might try to hurt her again. She had no idea how much Eve regretted that day.

Though she hesitated for a moment, Eve didn’t let her guilt hold her back for long. She placed steadying hands on Villanelle’s shoulders and whispered things to calm her. They started off making sense and slowly deteriorated into nonsense. It didn’t matter, just the sound of a soothing voice seemed to comfort Villanelle. Her face slowly relaxed from a grimace into a slightly pained expression.

They walked back to the apartment slowly, hands held like a lifeline the whole way. 

The next morning, Eve was certain the night had been a disaster. She was certain Villanelle would wake up and attempt to kick her out. Eve had seen Villanelle at her weakest and surely that would be enough cause for Villanelle to hate her. When she left the apartment for her early morning coffee run, she worried as she closed the door that she might not be able to get in when she came back. Villanelle would lock her out without a word and that would be the end of it.

But her fears were unfounded. She came back to Villanelle stretching in her place on the couch, looking up expectantly as the door opened. She gratefully accepted the chocolate croissant and coffee, tearing into the flaky dough with relish. 

“We should go out tonight,” she said when she was finished. She wiped a bit of chocolate away from the corner of her mouth.

Eve, who was still getting over her fear of being kicked out, frowned. “What did you have in mind?”

“We could see a movie?” suggested Villanelle with something that sounded like hope in her voice.

Eve was still getting used to the idea of becoming friendlier with Villanelle, but she agreed. What was the harm in seeing a movie?

Villanelle seemed excited by her acceptance, leaning back and basking on the sunlit couch. She stretched her arms behind her head and sighed contentedly, as though she might go back to sleep again. Her shirt rose with her and slipped over her waist. It was more skin than Eve was used to seeing on Villanelle and her eyes were instantly drawn to the pale skin there. The shirt didn’t lift high enough to see the scars Eve had left, but it did reveal a small band of soft flesh that peeked above her waistband. 

The little bit of round stomach there seemed incongruous to Eve at first. At least, that was Eve’s rationale for her fascination with it. Throughout the rest of the day and their trip to the movies that night, Eve looked for other signs that something about Villanelle had changed. Nothing immediately came to mind. 

Villanelle was sharp, in just about every definition of the word. She was incredibly smart, though it took a while before she trusted Eve enough to offer her insights on things; she seemed to know a little about everything, but she was incredibly adept at languages most of all. Villanelle’s words could be cruel and cutting, weapons themselves if she wanted them to be. She looked sharp; she was always dressed exceptionally, practical but high fashion no matter what. She was sharp in her manner, blunt in her words, and the angular planes of her body were physical reminders of that.

Eve found that she enjoyed spending time with Villanelle. She knew that was bizarre and wrong. She knew what Elena or Kenny would say if they knew how she felt. But she was in the wind now. So little of what her life was now made sense. She knew she was enjoying herself and that seemed to be enough for now.

They began going out almost every night. Sometimes they went to quiet restaurants or the cinema or the ballet or a museum. Most days they walked through the city’s parks, Villanelle trying every day to increase her stamina. She still had to pause every now and then to catch her breath, but she was making progress. Eve was making progress too. Villanelle hadn’t recoiled from her touch since that night by the Seine.

\--------------

One morning Villanelle came out of the shower in only a towel and though Eve tried to avert her gaze, she couldn’t help but notice the extra sway in her hips and wonder at what that towel might be concealing. Eve caught herself staring and forced her gaze away, turning all of her attention to the cup of coffee clutched in both of her hands. In her head, she revisited the thoughts she had just had about Villanelle. How she wanted to know what was beneath that towel. How badly she wanted to touch Villanelle, to hold her. How much she wanted Villanelle to let her.

She wasn’t quite sure when or how it had happened, but she was certain of it now. She was attracted to Villanelle.

Perhaps it shouldn’t have been surprising. Villanelle was attractive by many standards. Eve had never previously considered whether or not she liked women, but lately, she had been rethinking her feelings for the women she had known. Frank’s question to her in Berlin, about whether she liked women had surprised her initially, but it had stuck with her even after he had died. She had dismissed the idea when he had first proposed it to her. Now though, Eve thought she knew the answer for sure. 

From the kitchen, she could see that Villanelle had left the door to her bedroom ajar. Villanelle had tossed her towel to the floor and every once and awhile passed in front of that gap. Villanelle grabbed a few things from her wardrobe and put them on. A bra and panties first, both digging gently into the soft skin of her hips and back, and then she turned to her clothes. She strutted proudly about her room, obviously unaware that she was being watched. Eve wasn’t sure she ever walked around that confident while half-naked. 

She held up a yellow blouse to her chest in front of her mirror, modeling for a moment before placing it on the bed with a nod. It was a light, girlish thing with small yellow flowers. Eve thought it was funny how she chose to wear things like that. Villanelle wore armor that didn’t look like armor. She dressed like a young woman, sometimes like a naive woman, and that made people trust her. Eve wondered who she had chosen the yellow blouse for today.

There was a while where Eve couldn’t see Villanelle. There were soft noises of cabinet doors and fabric swishing. She could hear the blankets on the bed being sat on, the noises of the blankets rustling went on for longer than Eve expected and she was almost tempted to go in there and see if something was wrong.

Just as Eve set down her coffee cup, Villanelle entered the living room, fully dressed and hair wet, but up in a crown around her head. The yellow blouse was nowhere to be seen. She wore a light pink chiffon dress, light and demure despite only coming to mid-thigh. 

“My pants are too small,” she said matter-of factly, definitely not the tone of someone who has just learned that they have outgrown their wardrobe. She chose to blame the pants for failing and not herself. Eve found that confidence very attractive. “We’re going shopping.”

Villanelle took her to some small Parisian fashion houses, all of those places that sold the fancy clothing she had given Eve as a gift all those weeks ago. It was clear she was a frequent customer there; some of the designers dropped everything to take Villanelle into the back to take measurements. Eve felt like an outsider to the whole process even though Villanelle always invited her to watch. She even bought Eve a few things she thought Eve should own. 

They returned to the apartment laden with bags. Villanelle now owned a new, slightly larger but perfectly tailored wardrobe and Eve had been given three sweaters; a glorious, silky, blue dress she had no idea where she would even wear it, and a lacy, black lingerie creation that must have cost about as much as every other bra or panty Eve had ever owned combined. She was sure that the entire time they had been in that last store her face had been bright red. Part of her wondered if Villanelle had brought her there to make fun of her, or if she had been trying to suggest something else. It wouldn’t be as though either of them hadn’t thought about it. And wasn’t giving someone lingerie an obvious sign that you were thinking about having sex with them?

\--------------

A few weeks into their cohabitation, Villanelle received a call.

It was very hard to conceal things like that from each other, even if one roommate might not want the other to know about the other’s return to their job as an assassin. Villanelle knew that Eve was aware that the call had taken place, though they chose not to discuss it. Eve wasn’t sure that Villanelle was capable of heading back into the field just yet, but she said none of what was on her mind. She didn’t approve of that line of work either, no matter how much she enjoyed the results. Eve knew that sooner or later she was going to have to return to reality, and Villanelle’s return to murder would mark the end of this brief, beautiful respite. 

Villanelle suggested that they go to a small art exhibit after dinner that night, on the day she had received the call. Eve wondered if Villanelle was looking for some special venue to end their arrangement or perhaps to execute her. Villanelle told her it was a black-tie event and that her new blue dress would be perfect. She almost appreciated the effort and level of sophistication that was going into her murder. At least if the night ended with her bleeding out on the cold, hard pavement, her corpse would look its best.

She was even more delighted by Villanelle’s chosen outfit on what Eve assumed would be the night of her death. Villanelle at least had the courtesy to put on a new scarlet dress that hugged every one of her new curves. In the time that they had been living together, Villanelle had put on weight, but to Eve’s jealousy and satisfaction, it only made her more attractive. Her hourglass figure was exaggerated by wider hips and thick thighs that gave each step a slight wobble. Resting on those gorgeous, full hips was a persistent belly that was both the result of weeks of rest and healing and of her voracious appetite. The dress was stretched across her waist and did more to accentuate it than to hide it. The Polish woman who had witnessed Villanelle committing murder could not have called her “flat-chested” anymore. The deep neckline of the dress served her assets well. 

The transformation had left her face was rounder, but that wasn’t the only notable difference to be found there. Her eyes were brighter and she seemed to smile more now. Eve couldn’t be sure if those changes had the same cause, but she loved those changes just as much as all of the others. 

Villanelle looked different. Her sharp edges were hidden by softness, though Eve knew they still lurked underneath. In a way, this body was the perfect vessel for Villanelle, the woman who always tried to hide her true nature. Her love handles and thick waist were new armor for her and a trap for anyone who dared to underestimate her now. She was just as dangerous as she had always been, perhaps even more so for Eve who was more attracted to her now than she had ever been.

After seeing Villanelle in that dress, Eve was tempted to forgo the museum and come clean to Villanelle right there and then. Kiss her hard and tear the dress off of her just so Eve could look at her. 

Villanelle knew exactly what she was doing to Eve by wearing that dress. She had to. Eve thought she caught a smirk on Villanelle’s face each time Eve was caught staring. They had been dancing around their shared attraction for weeks now. If tonight was going to be the night to end things, they should go out with a bang.

Other people stared at Villanelle in that dress. It was hard not to. She was alluring regardless but seeing all of her assets displayed at their best was something even strangers couldn’t ignore. Villanelle was very good at pretending she didn’t notice them. She leaned heavily over the dinner table ‘accidentally’ putting her cleavage on view. Her belly, and it really was a belly at this point, not a roll or muffin top but a belly, found a way to sit on her thighs, an ever-present dinner guest. She did nothing to curb her eating habits either, which seemed to offend some of the more traditional Parisian diners. In their eyes, a heavy woman should starve herself, but Villanelle wanted nothing to do with shame and that was perhaps the sexiest thing about her.

Villanelle spent the entire evening out pretending that nothing had changed between them, not her job, not their relationship, not her figure, nothing. At the museum, she took Eve’s hand and guided her about the exhibit, stopping to make intelligent comments about the pieces that Eve didn’t really hear. They seemed to linger there longer than they usually might have, but Eve’s desires might have skewed her sense of time.

She was endlessly relieved when they stepped onto the metro to head back to the apartment. There was very little more she could take of this without saying something. 

When they stepped inside, at last, Villanelle turned to her, eyes full of false concern. She had the audacity to look innocent. 

“Is something wrong?” Villanelle asked, a pout on her pink lips. “You’ve been looking at me strangely all night.”

It was all Eve could do to keep a feral growl trapped inside her throat. She was tired of games. It was time to take control. 

In two strides, she was on top of Villanelle. She steadied Villanelle’s head in her hands and pressed a kiss to her lips, full and hard. Villanelle stilled beneath her and Eve leaned back, eyes open to see what she could possibly be thinking. She liked what she saw. 

Villanelle’s hands drifted lower to press Eve’s hips to hers. Even in their tight dresses, their hips could grind slowly against each other. It wasn’t enough but it was a start. Eve stole another kiss from Villanelle’s lips as Villanelle’s hands grabbed hold of her ass. It was hard to focus on the task at hand while she was doing that. Eve shifted her focus from Villanelle’s lips to the devilish dress that still hid all of Villanelle from her. Surely there was a better place to do all this than the entryway. 

“Bedroom,” was all Eve said and Villanelle nodded. Thank god it was only a few feet away. 

Their hands negotiated whose dress came off first, both of them eager to remove the other’s. Villanelle’s red nightmare came off first and was unceremoniously tossed to the floor. Eve pushed her to the bed and hiked up her own blue dress to kneel over her on the mattress.

“Kinky,” was Villanelle’s sarcastic response and Eve kissed the smirk off of her lips. 

Eve took a second to breathe, panting a little at how fast things were moving. She had been watching Villanelle all night, dreaming about finally doing this to her after who knew how long, and now she was sitting astride her, taking her in fully after weeks of only glimpses.

Eve ran her fingers through Villanelle’s hair absently as her eyes finally raked over the full expanse of Villanelle’s bare flesh. Her high, full breasts rose and fell with her own heavy breathing. The curve of her hips and her new round belly lie there beneath Eve like a promise. Her hips are lined with rosy stretch marks that Eve can’t help but run her fingertips over and love with all her being. Those thick thighs wait beneath her own.

“When did you get so beautiful?” Eve asked without meaning to. She knew the words were silly even as she said them. Villanelle had always been beautiful and she sounded impossibly cheesy. But the sentiment was true all the same and she wanted to make sure Villanelle knew it. She was beautiful even if she looked different. 

“I’ve always been beautiful,” said Villanelle with a pout. “I can’t believe it’s taken you this long to notice.”

Eve had noticed alright, the hard part had been finally getting here in bed with Villanelle. The hard part had been realizing her feelings and deciding to act on them. The hard part was looking down at Villanelle beneath her and trying to decide what to do first.

She started with kissing that haughty smirk from Villanelle’s lips. Villanelle was always too cocky, too sure of herself, and the most annoying part of her was how she was almost always right. Villanelle was beautiful, she was talented, and she was smarter than almost anyone Eve had met. And Villanelle knew it. 

Eve’s hips rolled against Villanelle’s, relishing being on top and in control. Villanelle captured Eve’s lips. She was fierce, hungry. 

Her hands found Villanelle’s hair first, as Eve nipped and sucked tenderly at her breast. She showed slow careful consideration to each part of her, and was rewarded with shameless moans. Eve turned her attention ever lower, to Villanelle’s round belly, burying her fingers into her soft sides. She was gorgeous like some renaissance sculpture, and Eve made sure to let her know. Her tongue traced the line of her curves, every new undiscovered inch. Villanelle’s body was uncharted territory, every new swell and curve was unseen and untouched. The pillow of cream colored skin on her waist, the thick white thighs, her heavy breasts, they all belonged to Eve. 

Eve moved lower, spreading Villanelle’s thighs wide and kissing her there. Her hands massaged the bare skin of Villanelle’s hips as her mouth explored. Villanelle encouraged her here and there: a well placed hand in Eve’s hair as though to guide her, an enthusiastic ‘yes’ when Eve hit just the right spot, her toes curled under as the pressure began to mount. 

From the sound of it, Villanelle was surprised but not displeased by Eve’s eagerness. She had no idea how long Eve had been thinking about this. Sure, Eve had never been with a woman before, but she knew what she liked, she knew what she wanted to do to Villanelle, and she knew how to listen. Eve might not have been a cunnilingus prodigy, but she was patient and a quick study.

“You’ve never done this before have you?” Villanelle asked, her accent hitching somewhere in the middle. She was already breathless just a few minutes in. 

“Does it show?” asked Eve, she could feel her mouth was thick and clumsy, slick from Villanelle’s cunt. 

“You’re not bad.” Villanelle took the opportunity to sit up and lean in close. She kissed Eve, tasting herself on Eve’s lips. “But I could do better.”

And before Eve knew what was happening, she became the one with her back to the mattress. Villanelle looked down at her, gazing with something dark and ravenous in her eyes. Eve was going to be devoured and she desperately wanted it. 

Villanelle swept her long blonde hair over her shoulder before leaning in. She pulled Eve into her, one hand finding the bare skin of her back and supporting her there. Eve felt like a swooning Victorian and tried to pull Villanelle back down with her. 

There was nothing boring about kissing Villanelle. With the wrong person, kissing is a chore, a segway to something else. Eve thought she could kiss Villanelle forever and she could still find something new about her. Kissing was like a new set of rules in the game they played with each other, had been playing with each other ever since they had moved in together. It was another way of testing each other. What sound would Villanelle make when Eve kissed the vulnerable skin just under her jaw? How would Eve react to Villanelle nipping at her ear lobe?

Nico had been a chore to kiss. In the later stages of their marriage, they had nearly given it up altogether. They shared brief pecks in the morning before work and at night before they shut of the lights, but as part of sex? Never. Kissing for the sake of kissing had ended with their honeymoon stage and when Nico had made that mustache a permanent fixture on his face. 

Villanelle wasn’t like Nico at all. She was softer, her hair, her skin, her kisses. She had a body that deserved to be treasured just like Eve and Eve loved being tasked with treasuring her. Nico had wanted to do the same to Eve once upon a time, before he had forgotten just what it was he had loved about her. Their sex was never the same once he had forgotten that. Villanelle was new and different in all the right ways. Had she ever desired Nico the way she desired Villanelle? Or had she always been throwing her passion at the brick wall that was a man who wanted nothing to do with it?

Between Eve’s legs, Villanelle stroked her in long broad stripes, teasing her until she was wet. Her fingers were sure and steady, finding exactly the right spot almost immediately and then playing with speed and pressure. Eve understood that she was new to all this, but did Villanelle really have to be as good at this as she claimed to be? Already, Eve was hot all over. If either of them took a moment to pause, she knew she would find herself trembling. 

She came at last in fits and starts, loud and shaking. Villanelle guided her through it and kissed her desperately when it was done. Eve wrapped herself around Villanelle, holding her in a way that only days ago she could never have imagined doing. Her head found its rest on Villanelle’s chest, listening to the slowing heartbeat. Villanelle was out of breath from all of this. Both of them were sweating. 

The bed was wet, the sheets were tangled, but neither of them seemed to care. The significance of what had just occurred hit them all at once and both Eve and Villanelle were too stunned to move. 

For once, neither of them said anything. There was no commentary, no witty repartee that could say anything more than what they had just done. Something momentous had changed between them, something that had been building up to this climax for weeks now. For once, Eve wasn’t confused as to what Villanelle was thinking now and she wasn’t all that confused about herself either. 

Instead of speaking, Eve sat up in bed, freeing herself only a little from Villanelle. She looked down at the beautiful, amazing, complex woman beside her. Their legs were tangled in each other like scissors. Eve leaned down over Villanelle and rolled her hips against Villanelle, still wet and sensitive from before. Villanelle gazed up at her as Eve closed her eyes, trying to just feel. 

Villanelle reached up and pressed a soft hand to Eve’s cheek. Eve held it there in her own and kissed it gently. 

They fell asleep in the same bed that night. Early the next morning, Eve was awakened by the weak lavender light of the early dawn. She rolled over and hid her eyes against it with Villanelle’s bare shoulder. Eve draped her arm over Villanelle’s side and felt the body she had ravished last night and the parts of it that belonged to her.

She could get used to waking up like this in the morning, pressed close to someone she could adore. She could get used to spending everyday with someone who perplexed her and challenged her and craved her. They could spend their days travelling the world and enjoying it and each other in ways that only the two of them could. 

Her life didn’t have to be boring. It didn’t have to be ordinary. She could spend her whole life trying to understand all of Villanelle’s idiosyncrasies and at this point, that was what Eve wanted to do more than anything. They had already developed a partnership over weeks of living together and last night they made it official without saying a word. 

Perhaps what they had was temporary. Perhaps it was strong enough to weather the differences between them. The future promised to be exciting and Eve knew that somewhere in it, lay more of this to come.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! This is my first time posting something like this and I think it turned out exactly the way I wanted it to. Let me know what you think!


End file.
